


Deeper than blood

by dishonestdreams



Series: Fifteen Minute Scribbles [1]
Category: Firefly
Genre: Angst, Emotional Constipation, M/M, Manhandling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dishonestdreams/pseuds/dishonestdreams
Summary: Mal's got ideas about how things should go down on his watch.  Simon disagrees.





	Deeper than blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/gifts), [pushkin666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/gifts).



> A product of this weekend's fangirl meet-up. Intended to be written in fifteen minutes (except that I am the cheatingest cheat who ever cheated, apart from MistressKat who cheats even harder than I do).
> 
> My prompt for this one was _"Firefly, Loyalty"_

“You want to explain to me what in the hell you were thinking of back there, doc?” Mal’s voice is low and dangerous in that way that suggests someone’s about to start bleeding, and Simon straightens his back instinctively.

“My job,” he says, with all the calm he can muster, and he stares down at the medical implements strewn across the table with the fierce concentration that he normally reserved for the (all too often) times he had a dying crew member oozing out their lives on his medical bay floor.

“Your job,” Mal echoes, and it doesn’t sound like any form of agreement or concession to Simon’s ear. It sounds like a damned accusation, and Simon shoulders raise defensively. “Last I checked, _doc_ , your job around here was keeping me and mine alive. Don’t figure we ever talked about you putting yourself between me and a loaded pistol at the end of an itchy trigger finger.”

Simon pointedly doesn’t look at him. “I was aware of the risks, _Captain_ ,” he says tightly, and he’s sorting his tools more by muscle memory than concentration, all too aware of Mal’s focused attention behind him. “I assessed the situation, and I was fairly certain that my intervention gave us _all_ the best chance of survival. Or would you rather have had the situation devolve into a gunfight. Personally, I prefer to avoid the violence.”

Mal’s quiet when he wants to be, and Simon jumps at the sudden press of heat against his back. Mal reaches round to shackle his fingers, lightly enough that Simon’s aware it’s not a admonition, tight enough to still his movements. He takes a deep breath, and it doesn’t help; his nose is flooded with a mix of old leather and gun oil that’s quintessentially _Mal_ , and his heartrate ticks up a notch.

“You ever put yourself between me and a bullet again, Simon, and you’ll wish that all you got was a little bit of violence,” Mal breathes the words as a hot stream into Simon’s ear and Simon can’t stop the shiver that he knows Mal has to be able to feel.

“Get yourself shot again, _Mal_ , and I guarantee that I’ll put you on enforced bedrest for at least a month,” he says. “My job on this ship is to keep you safe and I’ll execute that duty in any way I deem appropriate.”

Mal’s fingers flex against his wrists, and Simon’s not sure whether it’s meant as a warning or something else entirely, but he figures he’s started now. He might as well finish. “We can’t lose you,” he says, his voice soft, and it comes out more desperately than he would have hoped in more ideal circumstances. He doesn’t say **_I_** _can’t lose you_ but he knows it’s there, lurking under the surface of his words. Behind him, Mal huffs.

“Ain’t going nowhere, doc,” he says, quietly enough that Simon doesn’t think he would have heard had Mal’s mouth not been pressed quite so closely to his ear. “But I ain’t looking for anyone to put themselves on the line for me.”

Simon chokes out a half-laugh. “Haven’t you realised, Captain? That’s _why_.”

He’s not surprised when Mal pulls away.


End file.
